Practice Makes Perfect
by Celery Sticks
Summary: Amy comes back from her summer tour with a renewed interest in film and a resolution to be less focused on her own issues. So, her first step is to offer to make a video showcasing Lauren and her mad dance skills. Shockingly, Lauren agrees. And then things start get... complicated.


Amy isn't quite sure what she's expecting when she asks Lauren to model for her.

Granted, if she wanted something _other_ than completely befuddled, irritation-bordering-on-rage, and downright dismissal all wrapped up in one healthy dose of side-eye, she might have thought to phrase it a bit better than that.

See, lately she's been thinking a lot about life after high school. Where she was going to go, what she was going to do, what friendships she was going to keep. She'd tried talking things over with Karma, which usually helped clear the crazy that was her hyperactive brain on a train of thought, but as was becoming the norm with Karma those conversations left her more irritated and confused than comforted. Yes, their friendship was still weird, and it was likely going to keep _being_ weird until their hormones finally figured their lives out.

Amy couldn't pretend that she didn't still have feelings for the girl, and she couldn't even bring herself to joke about the idea of not being within feasible walking distance of wherever Karma was.

 _But,_ every single time Amy tried to bring up the future, something that they would very much have to plan together if they wanted things to retain any modicum of normalcy, Karma would change the subject or just flat out balk until Amy relented and moved on. What was funny about this though, was that it had the opposite effect of what Karma was probably hoping for when she forcefully laid the conversations to rest. The more Karma cared to _avoid_ the future, the more fired up Amy got about pursuing it.

The summer she'd spent on the Pussy Explosion tour (Amy now only had to fight back the giggles 43% of the time now after saying those two words together) had been great for gaining some much-needed perspective. About who she was, what she wanted, what her weaknesses were, and how she was going to handle her relationship drama going forward.

That summer had held one big surprise after another, and one of the biggest surprises of them all was the daily mandatory check-in with Lauren that almost immediately became part of her routine.

It wasn't an affectionate thing, really. "Lauren," and "affectionate," were still two words Amy was loathe to put in the same sentence, let alone the same category, but for Lauren Cooper it was a lot.

" _So have any of the lesbos invited you to tour their U-Haul yet?"_

" _Have you started growing out your lesbian-dreads yet?"_

" _How many existential, meta, feminist mumbo jumbo BS jargon talks-over-tea did you have today?"_

" _I refuse to believe that not one of them has tried to convince you to get your nipples pierced."_

At first, Amy would roll her eyes and ignore it or reply with some bitterly aloof comeback. But after the first few days of being on the road with complete strangers and a whole lot of unresolved feelings, Amy realized that she actually appreciated the effort Lauren was making to remain a part of Amy's day. She also figured that maybe it was one of the few things Lauren had that helped her feel like things were normal, and even though they so _weren't,_ Amy could understand wanting to pretend. She hadn't been there for the "Save Hester High" circus, but a very lengthy innuendo-ridden farewell call from Shane had filled her in. Apparently it was Lauren's confession about truly fitting in and belonging to a place that accepted you even when you couldn't accept yourself that had swayed the board's minds about letting the school stay open.

Amy had been proud, which was something she didn't feel a whole lot of most of the time.

After the call, Amy thought long and hard about something that wasn't her very complicated relationship with Karma: her relationship with Lauren.

Had Amy been surprised when her mother and Bruce announced their divorce? Not really.

…maybe a little bit.

…sort of.

…yes, she had been. Part of her had seen it coming, a long-buried part of her that she'd built up hope she'd never have to air out again, and unfortunately when the two "adults" (Amy was loathe to call them that because she was still very much under the impression that "adults" were people that _didn't_ make their kids watch on in abject horror or even just general discomfort while they tried to avoid their problems) had cheerfully (painfully) announced their divorce she was immediately transported to the day her father had left.

She'd mostly been able to bury the pain, but not completely.

She supposed that Lauren had handled it with roughly the same amount of distress, but a hell of a lot more composure.

At first, Amy wasn't quite sure what Lauren had been planning to do. Lauren had stopped unpacking once she'd spoken to the baord, which obviously meant that she planned to stay for at least a _little_ while, but Amy had no idea just how long a "little while" might have been. Eventually, as the weeks ticked by and their brief texting conversations became less bitchy and more friendly competition to see who could piss the other one off more, Amy sort of just _forgot_ that Lauren had ever been planning to return to Dallas at all. Then one day she'd suddenly remembered out of the blue, and had the gall to flat out ask what _really_ made Lauren stay.

" _I thought you wanted to go back to Dallas_ because _no one knew,"_ Amy had written. _"What changed?"_

Amy knew that it would be a long time before Lauren was truly able to accept who she was, and the petite blonde would probably spend the rest of her life with a tiny cloud of doubt hanging in what was otherwise a brilliant blue sky. And Amy wasn't asking because she thought Lauren might have needed an extra push, because she knew that wasn't it. Lauren only did things she _wanted_ to do, no matter how logical one particular decision might seem. And if she was ever _unsure_ about a course of action (because in life we can never be 100% confident 100% of the time, no matter how perfect your plié) then she always based her decision off of the things she 100% did _not_ want to do.

So really, Amy wasn't interested in the thing that made Lauren _stay;_ what she really wanted to know was what made her give Dallas the big F.U.

It had taken an hour for Lauren to text her back that day. Amy had been working her magic behind the camera, so she hadn't been able to respond for another two.

" _I called my best friends from back home."_

" _They were trying to get a teacher fired because she was transgender."_

" _And they were_ proud _of themselves for it."_

Amy immediately understood. She also immediately wished she could have flown to Dallas to kick the crap out of those prissy bitch cronies that dared to make her sis doubt herself.

Amy also had to remind herself every now and then that they weren't technically sisters anymore. They were more like roommates. Roommates who sort of hated each other but also sort of almost liked each other sometimes?

It was hard to tell.

So, to make it easier on them both, Amy had promised herself to be nicer, to make more of an effort. In the past, the bulk of their tentative sisterhood had been Lauren actually looking out for Amy and not the other way around. Sure, Amy had her moments when she hadn't been so busy worrying about her own problems, but looking back she'd been slightly embarrassed to recall all of the occasions in which Lauren had made the effort to show Amy that she cared, albeit in her twisted, sailor-mouthed, mean-spirited way. Amy had long since gotten used to the cattiness and the false bravado, and knew that underneath it all there was in fact a precious cupcake of a girl, a child throwing a tantrum to hide the fact that she had real problems to cry about.

On her first day back, once Farrah had practically squeezed the life out of her only daughter (Amy had blushed when her mother eyed her with a smile, quietly but confidently proclaiming that she could see how much Amy had grown just by the look in her eyes) Amy had brazenly enveloped Lauren in a hug. The tiny blonde took a moment's hesitation to return it, and so to rectify the awkward Amy had turned daring and picked the little blonde firecracker up in a bear hug and spun her around. All it took was a firm smack from Lauren and Amy immediately deposited her back on the ground, stepping away to avoid the several other smacks that came after.

And even though all Amy wanted to do was take a long-ass shower and sink into bed, she agreed to a movie night with her mother and sister-roommate. The three squeezed together on the couch, Amy being the meat of the lady-sandwich with a mom on her right and a Lauren on her left, and for once Amy didn't put up a fight about watching "Million Dollar Listing" for four hours straight. The choice of show technically didn't make it a movie night, but Amy decided to make popcorn anyway.

And after her mother had yawned enough times to warrant retreating to bed, Farrah placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead and left the two girls to themselves.

At that point, Amy started tossing popcorn at her blonde companion, who immediately groaned like the world's most inconvenienced creature and loudly proclaimed that she'd "already ruined the homecoming."

"It wouldn't be the first homecoming I'd ruined for you," Amy had teased.

"And it probably won't be the last," Lauren had conceded.

Then Amy had turned to her roommate and regarded her quietly for a few moments. That had been another thing Amy had resolved to get better at: being quiet. She knew she had a habit of jumping into things head first, not looking before she leaped. On the road, most of her best footage had been captured when the crew didn't even realize she was filming. It was all about the candid for Amy, what people really felt and did when they didn't feel like they were being analyzed. Of course, she'd need to get better about being less _creepy_ when she sat and listened, because Lauren had been staring at her like she was insane for a good thirty seconds.

" _What?"_ Lauren had demanded, bright blue eyes accusatory and defensive.

And Amy had just blurted it right out.

"Do you think you'd ever consider modeling for me?"

The silence that stretched between the two had been deafening for one, embarrassing for the other. Amy wasn't sure which feeling belonged to whom. She knew that _she_ was embarrassed as hell, as there were more than a million ways she could have phrased that that _didn't_ make her sound like a vague creep.

Lauren opened her mouth, but before the vicious, vicious words could come out Amy raised her hands in defense and let the word diarrhea commence.

"I'm not creepy, I swear! I just really, _really_ liked filming the tour and I was thinking that I could maybe do more stuff here at home to prep for college? There isn't really anything else I'm good at, and since you're such an incredible dancer you'd probably be really easy to make a killer video about. That's all I was thinking, filming like, your recitals or even just your practices. If you hate it I can trash it and I'll never ask again." Lauren's mouth had fallen shut, and now she was regarding Amy with something that might have been pride but also looked a little bit like she was impressed. She looked away for a moment, playing with a loose string on her otherwise-immaculate pajama bottoms.

If Amy hadn't known any better, she would have said Lauren was _blushing._

"Please?" Amy whined for good measure, clasping her hands together before her heart.

Lauren held her in suspense for what felt like an eternity. "Fine." Her words… _word_ … was clipped and not at all happy or ecstatic-sounding, but Amy jumped up to quietly cheer all the same.

"Yes! Thank you, I'll totally follow whatever weird rules you have about people intruding on your special practice time."

"Oh don't worry; I'll have a list for you tomorrow. I can tell you now though, one of them will definitely be: Amy will provide Lauren with the _largest_ size of her _favorite_ tea from the Twain _whenever_ she wishes to film." Amy's face immediately fell, knowing that Lauren was absolutely serious and that she'd have to set aside a special tea-budget in her minuscule bank account. Lauren's catlike grin stretched wider. "Another might very likely be: Amy will refer to her subject as 'Miss Cooper' at all times."

At that, Amy snorted. "You wish."

"I will _require_ it, if need be. Don't forget, I'm doing you a favor." Lauren tossed her hair over her shoulder with her typical cutesy brand of haughtiness. It was a bizarre juxtaposition that Amy was sure _only_ worked for Lauren.

Amy narrowed her eyes, brows bunching in confusion. "I thought this would be a fun thing we could do together, you're making it sound so not-fun."

"You want my talent, you meet my demands." Lauren replied smoothly, one shoulder cocked and her chin raised in defiance.

Briefly, the thought of one day making that same demand as a highly sought-after documentary director flashed through Amy's mind and she paused, too distracted by her vision to come up with a witty comeback. Lauren caught the misstep in their dynamic and gave Amy a quizzical look. "Are you short-circuiting or something, you freak?"

"You're a freak," Amy muttered in a half-assed, lazy attempt at a comeback. Lauren narrowed her eyes and her nostrils flared in that oh-so-Lauren way that Amy recognized to be a sign of an incoming insult.

"At least _I_ didn't run off on some ridiculous, Sapphic adventure on the road to get away from my relationship drama. How _is_ Karma, by the way? How long did it take before you cracked and called her, crying for attention?"

To Lauren's surprise, Amy did not rise to the bait. Instead of anger, the look Amy's bright green eyes sent her was one of hurt and sadness. For one of the very few instances in her Hester High life, Lauren paused, letting the rest of her verbal assault die on her lips.

"I didn't." Amy started, fidgeting with her hands and looking down towards the floor. "Call her, that is. And she never called me."

 _That_ was a shock to Lauren's ears. Part of her, that tiny, _tiny_ part she typically ignored when it tried to get a mushy word in edgewise, whispered that she might want to attempt to regret what she said. But it wasn't in Lauren's rock-hard psyche to regret.

…she could feel generally icky about it though.

"So I have no idea how she is."

Before Lauren could say anything else to her, or throw any more insults at her, and before Amy could find it in her to be angry and cause an argument when she'd _promised_ herself she'd be nicer, Amy walked away. She didn't bother saying goodnight, just grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge and trudged upstairs.

Now Karma was in her head again and she mentally prepped herself for a good few hours of wondering _why_ she couldn't bring herself to just call her best friend. If they even _were_ still best friends, or even friends at all. Amy wasn't sure if she could've stay friends with Karma if _she'd_ been ditched for three months. Then again, Amy had good reason for going, and one of those (arguably the most important) reasons was Karma herself. These thoughts were an endless looping soundtrack playing in her mind, and in the center of that loop was a subject Amy didn't even want to touch until she'd spent at least ten hours in the comfort of her own bed.

 _What do I do now that I'm back?_

The next morning, Amy woke up before her alarm, feeling fresh and lacking the crick in her spine that was always present after sleeping in the van, or one of the many dingy motel beds she'd been forced to crash in… or pushed into by certain amorous ladies.

 _Those_ parts of the trip had been fairly enlightening. Amy was fairly confident that the _next_ time she used her tongue to flirt with a girl from across the room, she might actually get lucky.

Instead of lounging around in bed like she normally did when she was home, she rose to stretch and find herself some coffee. Her mom was, as usual, already off to work and that meant there was already coffee in the pot. All it needed was thirty seconds in the microwave and some creamer and she was ready to… do what? She could sit on the couch, flip on the TV. That's what she'd normally do… but then again _normally_ she'd still be in bed. On a whim, she decided to head out onto the porch.

She plopped herself down into a wicker chair laden with throw blankets and wiggled until she was settled. Then, she just sat back and enjoyed the morning air.

School didn't start until tomorrow, so she could've honestly spent the entire day out there. Eventually maybe she should call Shane and maybe she could ask him for advice about calling Karma. She supposed she was excited to see her best friend again, but any excitement she had in her little heart was equally measured against anxiety, fear of rejection, another fight…

It was quiet out here, Amy realized with a slow, subdued start. She looked around, admiring the knick-knacks and clutter her mother took the time to procure and arrange.

That was another one of her resolutions: be nicer to her mom.

Her mom was a lot of things, and lacked many of the finer, sympathetic qualities a mother should have, but she wasn't evil. She wasn't mean, never on purpose anyway, and she had feelings. Amy often looked back on her mother's bridal shower and winced, wishing that she could've handled the idea of slowly being replaced by Lauren with more grace. When Lauren had finally snapped, exclaiming that she actually _liked_ Amy's mom and considered her one of the only _friends_ she had at the time… Amy had felt pretty shitty. Amy and Lauren really hadn't understood each other at all back then, and neither had tried to. Lauren was still feeling whiplash from the move and her sudden removal from high school royalty, and Amy had been too caught up in her own problems to really bother observing the complexities of the people around her.

The thump of a binder slamming onto the little table next to her chair made her jump, almost spilling her coffee onto the bright yellow quilted blanket. "The fu-"

"My demands," Lauren's dainty voice pierced the quiet air. She stood with her arms crossed, the tips of her hair still wet and her face soft from a half-complete makeup job. Her wardrobe was also slightly mussed, Amy noted with a quirked brow. Lauren almost looked like she'd thrown something on in a hurry, which was not something Lauren ever did. She was immaculate at pretty much all times, even days off from school.

Amy glanced between the bright pink binder and Lauren, who was casually observing her nails.

"So… this is where I sell my soul, huh?" Amy mused as she exchanged her coffee cup for the binder. She turned it over in her hands, noting that there were fewer pages inside than what her mind's eye had conjured. "It's pinker than I imagined. I thought Satan's black book was supposed to be… y'know, black?" Her tone turned questioning as she glanced back up at Lauren, who was now rolling her eyes with a huff.

Her tiny frame seemed to relax when Amy chose not to be bitter about what had been said last night.

Amy could have just imagined that, though.

Lauren seated herself on the armrest of Amy's chair, out of reach but close enough for Amy's brows to shoot up into her hairline. Physical proximity was not usually a factor in their relationship, and while yes, last night they'd all been squished together on the couch, this was a voluntary move on Lauren's part to be close to her.

Amy watched as Lauren opened the binder for her, like she was a child that hadn't learned how binders worked yet. "As you can see," she began, her no-nonsense tone bringing a slight smirk to Amy's lips, "Page one is a general Statement of Work, outlining exactly what you will be doing. That is, making a ten-minute showcase montage that I keep _all_ rights to if it turns out not to be horrible-"

Amy rolled her own eyes and let out an irritated snort. Lauren sent a glare her way and continued, turning to page two.

"And pages two through ten detail my demands. You should look through those as soon as possible, you'll need to have numbers one through seven memorized as they _must_ be adhered to during every shooting session. And page eleven…" she flipped through to the last page. "Is where you sign."

"This is _very_ official," Amy noted with sarcastic amusement.

Lauren merely shoved a pen into Amy's hand, eyes narrowed. "Just sign it, loser."

"Whatever you say, 'Miss Cooper,'" Amy said with an incredibly wide, faux smile meant solely to tick Lauren off. She batted her eyelashes at the tiny blonde who scoffed with mild disgust before leaning down to sign her name at the bottom of the contract. She then leaned down again a moment later when Lauren pointed at several locations that needed her initials.

"So do I have any say on when we start?" Amy asked genuinely.

"Tomorrow, after school; I'll have the studio to myself." The finality in Lauren's voice was firm as she snapped the binder shut and began to flounce away. She paused at the door though, and seemed to hesitate for a moment. Amy briefly wondered if she was about to get an apology. But, Lauren being Lauren, what she got instead was: "If you're not at my car ten minutes after the bell rings then I'm firing you. I don't give a fuck how sad or desperate Karma is for your attention."

Before Amy could snap back, Lauren entered the house and the door shut firm behind her.

Amy turned back to her coffee and, not for the first time, wondered if this was really such a good idea.

* * *

 _I ship Lauren and Amy so hard it hurts._

 _Yes, this is another project of mine that I will cherish and love and update as I please. Enjoy._

 _-Cel_


End file.
